


A Kingdom of Sand

by maplemood



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Body Horror, Eldritch Places, F/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 00:17:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20573324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maplemood/pseuds/maplemood
Summary: “This place ain’t right. Never has been.”





	A Kingdom of Sand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alamorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alamorn/gifts).

> I was really drawn to your prompts about eldritch and/or haunted places; it was impossible to fully capture their awesomeness, but I hope you enjoy this story!

“Fuck you doing?” Anne grunts, clenching her thighs as Jack attempts to nuzzle between them. “You think I need a wash?”

“Darling.” Sand crusts the underside of his stubbled chin, blows and drifts through the tent camp, shivers restlessly beneath it. “We both need a wash, but I, for one, am unlikely to get one—”

“The fuck you are.”

“—while you are unlikely to refuse me, and furthermore, are very likely to enjoy it. Now then—”

“This place ain’t right. Never has been.”

“Anne,” says Jack plaintively. _ “Do _ let me fuck you.”

He’s brought her across an ocean again, dragged Anne back into the pulse of the West Indies, islands untamed, grown fat on blood and bone and other men’s bullshit. Fuck Jack, she thinks, sand gritting at the roots of her hair, fuck him for thinking name and glory come with a price worth paying. “Takes a piece of you, don’t it,” she says. “Hungry as it is."

“James was a brute.”

“Weren’t him at the end—I’d look into his eyes and it weren’t him looking back.” Gurgled like a man drowning, her husband did, even before Jack cut his throat; at the end sand had rasped between James Bonny’s teeth. Hooking two fingers into his choking mouth, Anne had drawn out a driftwood splinter as long as a knitting needle. 

“Darling—”

“Fuck you, Jack. You want a fuck, this place’ll fuck the spirit right out of you.”

He rises to his knees, piqued. “You followed me here.”

“Aye.” Nassau is sand. Sand that would rasp in his mouth if she kissed it now, burn his eyes until they hardened into pearls. Ain’t the blood already sopped through this sand that truly troubles Anne—sure, her husband was better left spilled for the gulls. It’s her blood, and her spirit, that she must keep as her own. “But I’d follow you any fucking place, wouldn’t I?”

**Author's Note:**

> Historically, Anne first came to Nassau with her husband James; he planned to make a living by informing on pirates. I decided to stick with that for this story, even though _Black Sails_ isn't especially historically accurate, especially when it comes to Anne and Jack.


End file.
